Destination Three
by Little Miss Marina
Summary: *If his words were to cease, then so would my body.* After Meteor, Cloud responds to Sephiroth's call in varying ways. Inspired by KiKi doujinshi. CxS. Hints of CxT and CxA. Hard yaoi. Surreal. Somewhat AU.
1. White

**One: White**

In the corner of Tifa's bar is a table leftover from Meteor; I'd helped her bring it here when we went scavenging for makeshift materials to create her new 7th Heaven. One of the legs is just a couple of millimeters shorter than the others, so for a while, I'd squeezed wads of paper or matches underneath it to keep it from wobbling.

The table is old fashioned and wooden; I'm sure that it may have looked quite lovely in a place like Elmyra Gainsborough's home, but on the plate it looked so out of place that I instantly took a liking to it. It was the only thing I would help Tifa carry back, though she really wanted metal things. It's filthy, with ages old wads of grey gum stuck underneath it, and deep cuts on the surface. It's rotting, too. Until Tifa was able to find tables made of metal, it was our biggest one, but even after she fixed the place up to make it look modern and appealing, I liked to sit at that one. She'd moved it to a dark corner when she got new furniture and is always irritated when I prefer to sit there, rather than with her in the light.

--

"Where are you going?" She asked me one day, a low-traffic Sunday in which she expected me to stay home and play with Marlene and Denzel, who I still regarded blankly and uncomfortably.

She sat next to me at the wooden table, her legs crossed with a bowl of rice and beans in one hand, chopsticks in the other, watching the static on TV. She was very careful not to actually touch the table. She'd jumped when I made a move to leave, and I knew that she'd sat there, on the outside of me by the door, to prevent me from leaving in some way. As I pushed past her chair, I touched her shoulders.

"For a ride," I said, and I know she's expecting me to say 'wanna come?' "Why?" I asked instead, letting her know that she isn't invited, nor is it any of her business where I'm going. For a moment, she got quiet, understanding my gesture, and said, "…I just thought you might want to help Marlene with her little project."

I kept my facial expression unchanged, not wanting to cause more tension. Marlene was attempting to recycle every single piece of scrap metal she came across, which in my head, meant that she might as well bulldoze Midgar in its entirety. I know she's a child, but I haven't the slightest idea how to approach that. I've tried, for Tifa, and failed. I suck with children.

"Later, maybe," I say, plainly, then make for the door. "If anyone calls for me, I'm not even in Midgar."

Without saying anything, she turned and went to her clean bar and started wiping it down, mad. I left, ignoring her.

--

"Come today," he'd asked me as I stared into space, listening to Tifa eat. "You miss me, don't you?" More of a confirmation than a question at all.

Before this, he spoke to me only as I slept, so I stopped sleeping. As I would doze, leaned up against the wall in the bar, I could hear him whisper in my ear, and I would jolt myself awake, suddenly paranoid with heat rising in my flesh. The dark parts of my skin would bubble and pull me towards the door, and when they dripped, they formed a mass that struggled towards the outside world before dissipating into the linoleum.

Soon after, I heard his voice all the time—or even remnants of it. When the dark circles around my eyes came, Tifa had forced me into bed with a spell, which made the whole situation worse: then, I came to him without even taking myself. This was the first time we'd met since Meteor; he didn't seem sorry, and nor was I.

The white had the effect of snowblindness, and all I could see were his eyes and the outline of his hair. My arms were light with no weapon and I stood uneasily.

"Where is my sword?" I asked him awkwardly, knowing that no one else would be there to answer.

"And why would you need that?" he said smoothly, his voice as it was six years ago, different than the insane man who set my home ablaze and ran my mother and first love _and me _through. When he spoke, I knew that he was several feet from me, but I felt his breath on my fourteen year old ear and the bumps on my arm turned up in response to his wispy touch.

"Because you're here," I responded. I attempted to push some kind of hostility in my voice, but I found none.

"You can have your sword," he said reassuringly. "It's _your_ dream."

"_My_ dream?" I shook my head slowly. "This is a spell."

"Right, Cloud." To hear him say my name was like prickly heat, needling its way up my spine; when it reached the base of my neck, I recalled it as the tip of his tongue. I forced my eyes open and he was still there in front of me, the serene look on his face effortlessly calming my own tense facial expression.

"But it's still your dream."

He stepped into my shadow and the color came to his form, his outline hardening and the sharp features of his high cheek bones and thin nose gained contrast.

I started talking before he could get too close. "But if it's my dream, then that means it's also—"

I woke up then, the words, "my dream" on my lips.

--

**Author's Note: **This is a sort of bounce-back from about a year of creative inactivity. I haven't been able to write shit since I've been in California, and what fandom better to bring me back to my senses than Final Fantasy VII, my eleven-year obsession that I haven't written a thing for?

For those of you that are 'in-the-know' with FFVII doujinshi, this story was inspired by KiKi/Beni Fujiwara circle's collection, which mainly focus on the darker aspects of Cloud and Sephiroth's psychosexual relationship.

Those of you familiar with KiKi comics know that they're intense, sexually graphic and violent (usually all at the same time). This story is going to be along those same lines, so don't read it if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff. In addition, my English sucks _really_ bad right now, since English has not been my primary focus for the past year now. Please bear with me on that.


	2. Ignition

**Two: Ignition**

On several nights since Meteor, I've given into Tifa's subliminal wants and fucked her. I knew it was a mistake right when I came, not only because I had to force myself, but because I realized that I was kindest to Tifa when I had attempted to juxtapose Aeris onto her. This is part of my guilt.

I understand that she needs this to be human. I also understand that she's trying to bring me back to the human level by offering me a body, but whenever I'm inside of her, holding myself up above her slick body, I think of us as children at the well, when I'd promised her that I would rescue her if she were in danger. I'm sure that this is probably what she wants me to think of, but with that memory also comes the fact that I essentially didn't exist to her at the time.

As we fuck, her face pleads with me to mirror her emotions, if even just for that moment, and the thought nauseates me because they aren't there, and she doesn't believe that. Sometimes, I turn my head away to avoid looking at her and think of someone else.

I don't know about sexuality or anything like that. I don't remember who the first person I've had sex with was or whether or not it was consensual. Maybe it's better that way. But I feel terrible that when I don't enjoy Tifa, I don't know if it's because I don't like women or I just don't like her.

--

I don't like to work. I think the only reason I chose this as my occupation is for gas money, because when I drive, it's a lot harder for anyone to bother me. Even him.

But more often than I'd like, he's the reason I'm out while Tifa sits in her bar with the kids, ignoring them and sulking.

With the wind in my ears, his voice comes to me in static, and I love that I can yell back at him into the wind and for miles nobody would hear me.

_"What?" _I scream, utilizing the only time I can ever allow myself to smile. _"It's impossible to fucking hear you right now!"_ For whatever reason, I laugh very loud when I say this. Could be that I'm excited. Could be the freedom.

_"Do you believe me now when I say that it's your dream?"_ I can hear him smiling, too. The static is gone, but like bad reception, it returns as I speed around the corner of a cliff.

_"You know," _I say, still smiling, the wind whipping around in my cheeks. _"I have no idea where the hell I'm going." _

_You'll find out when you get there, I suppose._ Last transmission, and I turn off my GPS and drive, spacing out, the scenery becoming one green and red blur, landmarks disappearing, the sky turning black by earth colors and the sun churning—

--

I don't remember stopping my bike or walking. There's a ruin of an old structure in the fields near Mythril Mine, reclaimed by the dandelions and cat's cradle. Three of its four rectangular walls still stand as well as the foundation, and I step into the corner of two standing walls, my back to the mountain view.

My face flushes red when I smell him. He's going to call me and I'm going to come, no matter what.

When I turn my head slowly, I see a shiny, impeccably polished black boot out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly turn my head back to the wall and try to convince myself that he isn't there.

Of course, in typical Sephiroth flair, he makes his presence well known when a sharp object tears through my right kidney.

I don't feel the pain until I'm on my knees and the blood spurts from my mouth. My gore-smeared weapon clatters loudly in front of me and the bottom of his cape swishes over it, touching my face on its way.

"I thought you might want your weapon," Sephiroth says to me, the smile never faltering from his voice. I cough, sending specks of blood spattering across his shoes, and try my hardest to avoid looking up at him and staying hostile. I try to stand, but the muscles in my wound twitch and I'm down again, with the added help of Sephiroth's hand pushing me down by the top of my forehead.

"Are you ever going to be done with me?" I ask his boots. For a moment I think I see the reflection of his eyes in the shine, and I glance away. The words seem to create themselves; my mouth is but a vessel. "Can I have myself back now, please?"

"Yourself?" Sephiroth laughs. "_What_ 'self?' Cloud, dear boy… you have no idea what that even means, do you?"

"And who do I have to thank for that?" I keep my head down and for some reason expect a punishment for talking back, for having control over what I say. For that one moment, my mouth had been my own, but only because he had allowed me to say what I think. This is what I tell myself every time I talk to him.

Softly, his hands cup the bottom of my chin, but I fight it, trying to wrench away from him. His grip becomes stronger, and it hurts my jaw and makes my wound spurt more blood, but I strain against him, my entire head shaking violently in resistance, my eyes closed.

"Cloud. Look at me."

"Fuck you!" I manage to squeeze out of my mouth, saliva flying out to land on my chin. I know what happens when I see him.

My hands come up and around Sephiroth's wrist to pry him away, and I should have expected Sephiroth to do as he does: the one hand with a firm grasp on my chin moves down to my neck and he lifts me off the ground, holding me up above him.

At first, I try to keep my eyes closed, but as his grip tightens around my windpipe and threatens to crush it, my eyes shoot open and I see him: green, blue, yellow, black, every color that composes all that I see every day mesh into two orbs, curtained by narrow slits of the eye lids. Once I see this, I can't look away. Once _anyone_ sees this, they can't look away.

He drops me and I fall, crying out because of my wound. Before I can get up, he shoves two fingers into the open cut and as I scream, the rest of his body slithers over me, blanketing me with his cape, the tips of his hair clawing at my face.

For moments, we stare each other down.

"So," I half choke as the air struggles its way back through my lungs, "Is there a point to this?"

Although his fingers are still wedged in between my kidney and flesh, his voice becomes playful and he smiles down at me. In that instant I think of the General Sephiroth who used to send orders down to my squad leader, ordering me to report to his office rather than partake in shooting drills. It wasn't a very sound concept, but I've always missed being fourteen and Sephiroth's "chosen one"—bleeding for him, my tiny body squirming under his large form, screaming and crying while he fucked me but whining and pleading when he took it out.

"Exactly my point," he said as the moment fades away in my memory. Memory. "You can relive those moments, you know."

I'm quiet, but I'm thinking because I know he can see them. I think of the trainees whispering to each other and suddenly becoming quiet as I passed; how I earned a reputation as a whore because of my affair with Sephiroth, and just as I become hard, Sephiroth's other hand wraps around the bulge in my pants.

But I still have the fighting spirit, and I say in my deadpan voice. "No. I want to move on."

Sephiroth removes his hand and I groan, surprising myself, for I hadn't willed my mouth to move at all. "Then why do you keep coming back here?"

"Because you keep making me, goddamnit," I lay my head back, my voice shaking.

With that, Sephiroth begins to laugh, slowly and quietly. As he stands and stepsaway, his laugh crescendos into a booming, open-mouth chuckle.

"I think you're… a bit confused, Cloud."

I try to sit up, but groan when more blood pools on the ground under me.

"No surprise there," I say from the floor, defeated. The images in my head of Sephiroth lifting up my shirt and biting the skin around my ribs had sent shudders through me and I suddenly wanted to be there again.

"What can I possibly make you do?" The question probably would have made more sense if it were meant to be rhetorical, and even so, there _is _no answer to this question.

"How did I get here?" I ask absently.

"You drove." He answered plainly.

"How did _you_ get here?"

"I've _always_ been here."

"I don't get it."

He laughed, again. "You never do."

By now, I was ignoring the sharp pains in my side and managed to sit myself up.

"No. You brought me here."

"And how did I do that?"

"By calling me."

"I did no such thing. You came here on your own whim."

"If I go somewhere else, will you be there too?"

"It depends on you."

I lay back down and look at the sky. Seconds ago Sephiroth was several feet away from me and my mood had changed a bit, but now his boot pressed itself into my side and I cried out, pushing myself away, realizing the absurdity of this event.

"What the fuck is this?" I ask him, viciously. In one moment, I was summoned to this place, which I'd never been to previously, I was stabbed, fantasized about fucking with Sephiroth as a boy, and had a dialogue with him. "Why am I here? Why are _you_ here?"

For the last time, Sephiroth chuckles and cups my chin in his palm; I try to wrench away but he keeps me in place.

"Cloud, dear boy," he said, almost sunnily. "You are _still_ my chosen one."

He kisses me, blood and saliva running down my chin and onto my throat. I become hard again, thinking of me in my Shinra uniform, shredded and discarded on the ground as Sephiroth's hands roam my body.

When my hands cover his, which are over my wound, I lift my head and stand, easily, the pain gone.

There is no Sephiroth. There's no blood or weapon, either.

But when I look at my chest, the scar he put is still there, and that in itself is all three things in one.

--


	3. Carpenter

**Three: Carpenter**

Tifa woke up one day to a horrible scraping noise and came out to investigate and found me, sitting at the wooden table, leatherman knife in hand and scraping away.

"What are you doing, Cloud?" Her tone was a bit rude, but I guess she had good reason: I had sex with her the night before, and she hates it when she wakes up and I'm not next to her.

In response, I carved a piece of the wood out and flipped it out of the new crevice, looking up at her for several long seconds as I dragged the knife back and forth. The sound was excruciating, so maybe she was just pissed off because I woke her up. But I never answered her question. Just carved.

--

The first time this thing happened was when we tried to save the world. I convinced myself that I would follow Sephiroth wherever he went to "settle the score," but of course that wasn't the case. I found it shocking that I would fall victim to the same thing twice. I wondered if this involved another crisis of the planet, briefly, in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it, not giving a damn if it did either way.

But it's a little bit different now. I don't always go to him when he calls me, but when I don't, it's ten times worse. Our first meeting was gentle; so gentle that I was shocked when he had lured me to him with new visions of us fucking that I either don't remember or that never happened. My favorite was me trying to fit my tiny mouth around his huge cock, and as I rode to my next destination, I laughed out loud thinking about it. As I drove he filled my head with these kinds of images and I became addicted to them. When work was tedious I would lean somewhere, space out and try to remember how it felt for Sephiroth to push inside of my tight hole, using only pre-come and spit for lube.

I didn't have to try very hard for long, though.

--

I met Sephiroth again on the cliff where Zack died. I hadn't even noticed that I was going to see him because I always visit Zack's "grave."

Sephiroth sat perched on one of the cliffs behind me as I looked over Midgar, but I didn't turn around and instead waited for him to come to me.

"This is where part of you died, isn't it?"

My mouth moved for me again, in sync with Sephiroth's voice; my body even swayed with him. "It's where part of me was born."

Am I making sense to myself? I asked out loud, and Sephiroth refused an answer because he didn't need to give one—perhaps he wanted me to figure it out. I was still overlooking the bluffs when I felt Sephiroth's hands snake around me, and although I was slightly disgusted, they felt like they were in the right place. His hand weaved its way down my pants and I didn't protest that time. It felt cold around my cock, but I recalled being surprised at how soft his hands were—it must have always been the gloves to protect his hands from the wear of battle.

"Sephiroth," I try, as though he were a real person, "I can't do this."

"I haven't even done anything to you, yet."

"But the others—"

"What _others?"_

My stomach dropped into my feet when I remember the dialogue as one we'd shared many years ago, when he was fucking me nearly every day and I couldn't get enough of it, yet I couldn't continue to miss movement and take physical punishment from the squad leaders.

"You don't think this is worth all of this, Cloud?"

Sephiroth's voice comes from nowhere now. I'm naked and alone on the floor of Tifa's bar, shuddering, struggling to remember the rest of the dialogue so we can keep going.

With my ear to the floor, I can hear his breath rising. He shudders and I shudder too. My hand wraps itself around my cock as I listen to him tell me that the voices I hear say things that have no meaning.

I can't tell if that's dialogue from the past, pertaining to the other soldiers who talked about us, or if that's now. The thought process was sliced through by remembering what the fabric of Sephiroth's glove tasted like as he forced his fingers in my mouth, holding the rest of me up from behind. I stroked myself, struggling to remember what it felt like to be nauseated by pain and elated at the same time while Sephiroth, nearly twenty years my senior, fucked me when I was near virginal. "So tight," he would whisper and even though we were in the barracks, I would scream as he ripped himself in and out of me and come just by hearing his voice as he grunted.

He would leave me on the floor, shuddering, just like this; sometimes, if I were late for formation because of our meeting, he'd slap me on the face gently a couple of times and help me clean up and dress before sending me away with a note in my hand. It used to turn me on to think that among the other SOLDIER candidates, the instructors thought that I was the most worthless; that my only talent might be bringing the general off. Even I had thought for sure that I would make it with a little added help from my lover.


	4. Wordless

여기에서, 말없는음악들을 수있는지,  
_Here, I can hear the music without words.  
_활씬 멀리에서, 그녀의 목소리가 난다.  
_From far away comes her voice.  
_들으면서, 그녀의 얼굴이 네 얼굴앞에 거의보이지만,  
_As I listen, I almost see her face in front of mine,  
_그남자는 나한테 속삭일때,  
_But when _he_ whispers to me,  
_네가 자신의 몸을 반으로 끄트러기느낀다.  
_I can feel myself shred into halves.  
_그녀와 같이 네마음은 가지만,  
_For with her goes my heart,  
_그남자와 몸이가기때문이다.  
_And with him, my body._

**Four: Wordless**

For several weeks now, Tifa becomes flustered and angry whenever I leave and refuse to disclose where I go to be alone. She wants to relive the night before we descended into the Crater to face Sephiroth, probably; but I've been doing some reliving of my own. And investigating. Sephiroth wants to prove a point, but I have no idea what it is. By now I can't even count the days that have passed since I first began hearing his voice.

Right now, I'm working on the table with my knife and the kids are on the floor drawing pictures. Marlene finishes and brings her work up to me, holding it up so that I can take it. When I do she wordlessly runs back to her spot and starts drawing another picture.

The image is of my face, eyebrows drawn into a tight frown, my mouth a firm line. Surprisingly, I like it and decide to hang it up in the upstairs bedroom.

"Thanks, Marlene," I tell her with a smile and stand to tussle her hair. "This is worth like, a hundred of Aeris' flowers." I lie to make her smile, even though I know that the most beautiful picture of me in the whole world wouldn't be worth even one of Aeris's one-gil flowers.

As I pass Denzel, he doesn't look up at me. Although he hasn't said it yet, I know that Denzel doesn't like me. For some reason, I get the feeling that he feels Sephiroth in me, and somehow I imagine that this frail, sickly, anti-social little boy might grow up to be me one day. If he lives that long.

As I'm leaving, Tifa walks out with a package for me, and I turn, agonizingly, to receive it. It's only Tuesday, which is a workday, but I'm so far from work right now that I can't think of doing anything.

"You look tired," she says, softly. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"No, I'm fine," I say, but then I have a thought. "Maybe sometime this week, though."

Happily, she kisses me on the forehead and I leave with the parcel.

--

After I deliver the parcel, I search my memory for thoughts that might arouse me, but I don't find any. I notice that I hadn't even heard his voice all day and that he hadn't called me at all. I drive for hours and risk running out of gas, with no destination. When the sky turns pink I turn around and head back for Midgar.

About an hour out, I stop at a field of flowers so reminiscent of Aeris that the image of her standing amongst them is clear to me—so clear in fact, that I think I see her in the distance, her basket swinging from her arm as she bends down to pick the prettiest ones. Curious to see who it is, I walk towards her.

My hands finger petals and thorns as I walk, and I think about gathering a bunch to take home to Tifa. I know she would appreciate it; in fact, it'd make her the happiest she's been in quite some time. But I decide against it, knowing that if I did so, truly, it would be to bring Aeris's presence into the bar.

As I draw closer to the Aeris girl, my surroundings enclose on me and I'm in the same place I was when Sephiroth stabbed me; the crumbling stone structure. Aeris stands to the right of it. She places a couple of flowers into her little basket and stands up straight to look at me. Her green eyes—not entirely different from Sephiroth's, I realize with a shock—give me the same piercing feeling as when Sephiroth gives me memories to enjoy.

All day I hadn't heard his voice, and it occurs to me that maybe _she_ called me here, instead. Of course, it would only make sense: if I can speak to Sephiroth, I can speak to Aeris, too, right?

"Aeris," I whisper quietly, and the breeze seems to carry my voice to her. The look on her pretty face is plain, a slight smile tweaking the left corner of her mouth, but she looks otherwise hesitant.

"Cloud," she says in acknowledgement, bending down to pick another flower. She holds it up to her as she stands again, and the structure and background make a gorgeous portrait.

"Why are you… here?"

"Me?" She says, and then mimics Sephiroth:

"I've always been here. Where have _you _been?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to make sure that this isn't another one of my stupid mental lapses or whatever the hell it is when Sephiroth fucks with my head.

I should touch her, I think, to make sure it's really her. At least get close enough to smell her.

But the second I take one step towards her, I freeze in place, for Sephiroth looms in the background, walking out from the concrete structure and gliding to the left and then the right of Aeris, as if to say, "Don't mind me."

Aeris looks at me as this happens; she knows he's there.

"Aeris." I say sharply, quietly.

"What," she says, not turning around. "Sephiroth?"

She brings the flower close to her nose and smells it as she speaks.

"What about him?"

"He's behind you." My first reaction is to grab my sword, but Aeris's look reminds me that it does no good against Sephiroth anymore—as if it ever really did.

She mimics him again:

"And what could Sephiroth possibly do to us?"

Then she walks toward me, slowly, twirling the flower around in her fingers while the petals play with her nose.

Sephiroth leans against the wall, his arms folded, one of the same flowers in his hand, twirling it about. When Aeris brings the flower to my nose, he brings it to his, too. I bring her hand and the flower to my chest.

Then she kisses me on the mouth. She tastes like nothing other than the flower and The Lifestream. _It's her, _I think, and I'm positive that this is no illusion created by Sephiroth, for he could never make her this way. The Lifestream flows through me as we touch, and I look up at Sephiroth so he can see that I belong to someone else.

He blows me a kiss. Aeris lets me go, and walks back toward Sephiroth, an unreadable expression on her face.

I close my eyes for no more than a second, and as expected, the two are gone, as well as any sign that they had been there in the first place.

Except for the flower that I clutch to my chest.

--

After my meeting with Aeris, I returned to the bar and found myself giving the flower to Marlene. I could just hear Tifa thinking, "When is it going to be _my_ turn?" but she smiled at us and went on with business.

I visited the flower field several more times that week, looking for Aeris again, wondering what it was that she was trying to communicate. I had no idea why she seemed distant and unsure; perhaps she knew about my visits with Sephiroth and how I've been treating Tifa, which she wouldn't like at all. For a while I thought I'd tell Tifa, but she wouldn't have anything to say: honestly, I think that she only reminisces about her to be polite.

The table has collected a neat little pile of small woodchips around it, and Tifa makes sure that I clean them up whenever I leave. I'm not anywhere near done with it yet, but she keeps threatening to throw it out, so I have to hurry and finish it.

--

그것 때문에, 귀가아픈데,  
_And so, my ears hurt,_

가슴이 파열하는데,  
_And my heart explodes;_

그사람들이 네몸으로 싸운것 같다.  
_It's as if they fight through me._

한명에게만 네마음이 가는데,  
_My heart can only belong to one,_

그남자는다 가지고싶어 한다.  
_But he wants it all._


	5. Flight Phase

_**A/N: This chapter isn't particularly necessary for the overall plot, but I merely wanted to write it to go into depth on how Cloud and Sephiroth first met. I understand how it could be drawn out and boring, so you can probably skip this one and go on to the next. :D**_

**Five: Flight Phase**

One day, when I was fourteen, I found myself waking up much later than I expected to, scrambling out of my rack while no one else remained in my room. I had shooting practice that day at a range some ways away from our barracks, and we were to be ready to go with our rucksacks, web gear, full canteens and weapons, in front of the building, lined up in formation.

I had prepped my things the night before, so all I had to do was jump into my uniform and throw on my equipment, but I was pissed off that the other guys didn't wake me up—even if they didn't like me, had I been late, the entire platoon would have been ate up. But then, it made sense, I thought, as I hurriedly folded the corners of my blanket onto my bed—the entire platoon would have had an excuse to kick my ass.

Before running out, I remembered that I'd gotten chewed out several times that week for not carrying a pen. We have a special place on our uniforms to safely carry them, but I had my rucksack on and was holding my weapon, so I just took one from my desk and threw it into the pocket on my leg, lacking time.

I showed up and fell in literally two seconds before the drill instructors came out, and no one had time to heckle me for my relative tardiness. We took accountability by squad (I was in the wrong squad, but it didn't matter; I was there) made a left face and marched to load the cattle trucks—medium sized trailers with no seats that they cram soldiers into, standing up—that would take us to the shooting range.

My basic infantry training was in the Nibel Mountain Range, one of three larger initial training facilities that Shinra sends its army to, the others being in the Corel Mountain Range and Junon Harbor. Mt. Nibel, because of its extreme weather conditions, also trains and is the base of operations for the 108th Shinra Mountain Division—soldiers skilled in scaling mountains and engaging combatants in cold weather and on skis. A lot of the other kids really wanted to be mountain infantry and dreamed of it like how I dreamt of being in SOLDIER, but I noticed something unsound about the mountaineers. While SOLDIER members had their Mako eyes and their sophisticated manner, those in the mountain division looked down at us while we passed their barracks, like animals. Their eyes twitched from back and forth a lot, and they were thin, as if they went without eating for long periods of time. But that didn't mean they were weak. To them, we were pieces of meat. In fact, many of the particularly brutal rapes that were common there were carried out by mountaineer soldiers—on trainees.

But for the most part, not while Sephiroth was stationed there. The Shinra Army was at peacetime status, and rather than take an office position somewhere and become glued to a desk, it seemed that he wanted to help train the soldiers coming into the army. When I found out that I was being sent to Mt. Nibel, I became excited when I learned that Sephiroth commanded the post, and even more excited when I learned that Mt. Nibel is also where SOLDIER receives the first couple of weeks of training before moving onto Corel, a tropical site near Mideel, the Northern Continent, Junon, and finally the headquarters at Midgar. SOLDIER had to train in various weather conditions before being sent to Junon to study tactics and doctrine. It seemed they started in Nibel because it's a little bit of everything. Or so I was told and believed for a while.

At the time of this shooting practice, it was during an unusually hot, humid summer in the mountains. I never had much of a problem with hydration, so I never took the drills seriously when they force hydrated us or asked us how many quarts we'd drank that day. I definitely wasn't adequately hydrated when I'd left my barracks, and my canteens were both empty, but I soon felt very sorry for this.

While at a range, I suddenly became very, very serious, for during this time, I was going through SOLDIER trials. I was perhaps a month into my three month training, and I had signed up to be in SOLDIER when I enlisted, and eventually visited by a black-suited recruit during training. With SOLDIER prospects, they're called away either during classroom training or before chow in the evening to have various physical tests. I swam for two miles in one of them, exhausted from lack of sleep, barely making the minimum amount of time required to pass. Among other things, I knew that one thing required of a SOLDIER was to have perfect marksmanship: forty hits out of forty targets.

A lot of us hac mixed feelings of the range. It's the only time during training where we got anything close to that sought after feeling of power we're told occurs when you kill someone. Yet, we're in full battle gear, wearing helmets and web gear and everything else, and it was usually either very hot or very cold; very hard to stay hydrated, too. In the heat, the dust sticks to your skin and goggles and clogs your throat, and in the cold, your fingers stick to your weapon. The Mako even feels as though it condenses in your lungs. I was humiliated once when someone spotted tears running down my face because it was so cold that it felt like needles were running through my hands.

But I forgot about it all when I was in my foxhole, right cheek pressed to the stock of my weapon, the recoil spraying oil onto my face. I was so into my targets that until I could stop, I hadn't noticed the large figure standing over me, one foot on either side of my hips, spotting me. I hit fifteen out of fifteen that time.

When I had to change positions into the prone, I took the opportunity to look up and see who my spotter was, and General Sephiroth's back was turned to me, walking off in the direction of the range tower. My heart nearly jumped into my throat, and I was late loading my weapon and firing. It cost me two targets; otherwise, I would have made a perfect score.

I finished rather late, and wasn't feeling quite right—I hadn't drank much water all day, was enraged for missing two targets even though others rarely qualify with a score as high as a thirty-eight, and because General Sephiroth had stood over me as I fired. A part of me thought that that was why I had done so well until the last part came about, when I was distracted.

I was on my way to the latrine and the water truck when I heard people suddenly call my service number. I'd left my rifle in the care of another trainee who was guarding several other weapons, but he had passed out; possibly also due to dehydration. I ran back, secured my weapon first and tried to help him, but there was only enough water in my canteen for a tiny swallow, and I saved that for myself. Unfortunately, nobody else had any water, either.

When I looked up at the sky, I realized that it had gotten rather late without me noticing, meaning that I fell asleep somewhere. I wanted to run back to the water buffalo to fill my canteens, but at that moment, the cattle trucks arrived, and one of my drills began to scream at one of the drivers. I couldn't understand why for a moment, but then I realized that there were less cattle trucks than when we were transported to the range.

Before I could imagine how all one-hundred and twenty of us could fit into three cattle trucks, we were being shoved on and told to go—I don't know what happened to the kid that passed out, and I couldn't understand why all of the drills were panicking. Something was wrong. As I came up to the cattle truck, two other trainees grabbed my arms to pull me up onto it and I was shoved to the back, crushed between two soldiers. My ribcage felt like it would burst, but there was nothing I could do—the soldier in front of me was being crushed as well, and I wondered if the other kid was even alive. I was literally suspended between a stomach and this kid's ruck, and my throat was drying out. Everyone else was beginning to moan and those that were semi-hydrated were instructed to keep the person next to them awake and give them what water they could, but it turns out that the water buffalo was contaminated, and there hadn't been any water in there to begin with. Furthermore, another water buffalo wasn't sent out there to replace it.

Just before I fell asleep, I heard a deep voice murmuring outside, and General Sephiroth was the last person to step up onto the cattle truck, in full battle rattle, just like us. It was one of few times I'd seen him in anything other than his black, self-styled SOLDIER uniform. His hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and he seemed a bit distressed, but was quiet and took his place next to the terrified and nervous trainee next to him.

"Why is the General riding the cattle truck?" The faceless kid next to me asked.

"… I don't know," I breathed as the door slid shut and the only source of light disappeared, submerging us in semi-darkness. The cracked windows offered a beam of light that shined only on part of Sephiroth's face.

"I mean, shouldn't he be in like, a jeep or something? With flags of his rank all over it?"

I didn't answer, but stayed focused on Sephiroth as he gently shook trainees around him to keep them from falling asleep and passing out. The cattle truck seemed to quiet when he had first stepped on, but slowly, everyone around me began to panic as we were crushed by each other and the humidity squeezed more water out of our bodies.

Riding the cattle truck is a traumatic experience for some. I usually didn't mind it, since I often found myself suspended between two people and able to fall asleep, but for the first time, I was truly dehydrated: colors began to mesh together and sharp pains ripped through my chest. Even my drill instructor, who was sweating uncontrollably, began to sway back and forth with what little room he had.

I woke up again when the truck jolted to a stop, just in time to see a flash of Sephiroth rip open the door and jump out, with almost angry fervor. Without being told to, the soldiers in the front rushed the door, screaming, and falling out of the truck, calling for water. The kid behind me who had said nothing for the duration of the trip back to the barracks had suddenly jumped to life and shoved me forward faster than the kid in front of me was going, and my face was crushed on his rucksack.

When I got to the door, he shoved me out, and one of my knees cracked on the pavement before I landed on my side. More soldiers rushed out, and a foot went into my back, but I didn't feel it.

In the background, I heard the calm, furious voice of Sephiroth berating the NCO in charge of the range, asking why the soldiers weren't hydrated, why there weren't enough cattle trucks, and why they were late in coming.

"It's your job," he said, "to make sure these things get taken care of. Commander," he said, turning to the captain, an incompetent officer in charge of our company, "haven't we had this kind of discussion before?"

When I tried to stand, something seemed wrong with my left thigh, and when my hand reached down to touch it, it came away bloody. I looked down. Sticking out of my pocket was the pen I had placed in there, which had exploded. The rest was buried into my leg.

I went down again, not feeling any pain; not feeling much of anything. In front of me, soldiers were panicking as they tried to get into the barracks for water, as the doors locked when we left. A couple of them were lying in the grass as medics rushed to attach IVs to their arms. But no medic came in my direction, and I thought, 'of course.'

Instead, two gloved hands tucked themselves under my arms to stand me up, and one moved around to fit under my legs. When I turned my head upward, I saw the General, looking straight ahead, moving towards one of the ambulances. The medics saluted him and he set me down gently on one of the litters, returned the salute, and walked away.

As I was taken away, Sephiroth let his hair out of his bun and it fell down his back. I watched him, struggling to sit up until the ambulance had turned a corner, and I collapsed back onto the litter.

--

While I was in the hospital, I opened my eyes briefly to see Sephiroth standing over me, talking to the doctor. His form was a blur, but only he could have green eyes like that—I wanted to talk to him, to tell him that I dreamt of him at night and fantasized about being him.

When I woke up again, later that day, he was gone. A large bandage was on my thigh, and I was told that in addition to being dehydrated, I was fatigued—I hadn't been sleeping more than three hours a night. For three days I was on profile and unable to run, jump, or march. During these three days I wasn't called away for SOLDIER trials and was terrified of being pulled out because of profile. When it ended, I threw myself back into drilling and physical training, using every opportunity I had to knock out push-ups and sit-ups.

Sephiroth began to roam around the soldiers' barracks, which all of us considered very strange: officers, let alone generals, rarely talk to enlisted at all, since it's somewhat prohibited. In a way, we thought of it as a way for him to get to know us better, which most officers make very little effort to do. This is what made Sephiroth an outstanding officer, not just his skills in battle and war tactics.

I continued to run into him after my injury, catching me in awkward situations. During the first time, I was on the way back from chow, where Sephiroth also ate his meals, though with other high ranking officers. I noticed that someone was walking alongside me, but didn't make their presence known. When I looked up, it was him. I gasped, then turned red, thinking he may have heard me, and continued walking. He didn't look down at me.

"Cloud… was it?" He said, and I was surprised that he knew my first name—or my name at all.

"Uh… yes, sir?"

"I haven't seen you in a while. How is your leg?"

My face burned. Sephiroth, making small talk with me. "Um, uh, it's, uh…" I swallowed. "It's doing fine, sir."

"Are you still on profile?"

"My profile ended three days after my time in the infirmary, sir."

"And can you run well, yet?"

I had no idea what the point of this conversation was. "I, uh… well enough, sir, I th… think?"

"We'll see tomorrow, then. Good night, soldier."

I didn't respond to him because I didn't have time: he had turned a corner, and I was so caught off guard that I couldn't think of what I should have said. Plus, he called me soldier: nobody ever called us "soldiers" yet because of the confusion with SOLDIER, and just regular infantry. Plus, we were still in training, and were referred to by rank and numbers—the drill instructors didn't even know our names, probably.

And I didn't know why he wanted to know how well I ran.

That night we were told to hydrate well, and this time, I listened. I didn't like the experience of having an IV stuck in me. The next morning, we were told to report in formation in running gear, which was just blue shorts and a tank, both with the Shinra logo emblazoned upon it. We marched to the beginning of our run route, and there, our guide-on bearer stood directly behind and to the right of the General, who once again wore the same uniform as us, his hair pinned up tight.

I was close to the front of the formation, and saw the guide-on bearer's hands shaking from being in such close proximity to the General. I thought that everyone might be nervous because of Sephiroth's presence, but it was really because Sephiroth would be setting the pace for the run, and god knows how fast this man could run. I wasn't too fast of a runner myself—I definitely wasn't the worst, but I stayed in the middle of the fastest group, falling back a bit on bad days.

But when we took off, I ran with a speed I had no idea I possessed.

If Sephiroth ran any faster than the six minute one mile that our guide-on bearer ran, I wouldn't have noticed, but the guide-on bearer began to fall back; everyone in front of me began to fall back, and when we were nearly two miles out, I was passing the guide-on bearer, who looked at me desperately, and shoved the guide-on in my hands as he ran off to the side, to throw up. I looked straight ahead at Sephiroth's running form; how he ran lightly from heal to toe, making hardly a noise with his feet. His arms, rather than cross his chest as he ran, moved in straight motions, back and forth, propelling him forward. Copying his form, I pumped my legs faster until I was directly to his right.

I couldn't help but steal a glimpse at him, strands of his hair falling from the top of his head and sticking to the side of his face. He looked down at me, then.

"Oh, it's you," he said, pleasantly, in between evenly spaced breaths. "Quite the runner you are, there." I would have responded, but when I opened my mouth, I found that if I made the effort to make any words, I might not be able to breathe, so I just continued running.

We turned around at the two and a half-mile marker, Sephiroth and I having to stop for a couple of minutes to wait for the entire company to catch up. I ran with the guide-on all the way back, next to Sephiroth. He had us walk for a half-mile to cool us down, and once finished, he commended the company for not giving up, even though his pace was ridiculously fast, and even though several had fallen out.

While everyone was walking, I was still jogging in place with the guide-on, afraid to stop. When we were released by our platoon sergeants, I sprinted to the front door of the barracks, posted the guide-on, and puked all over the steps for several minutes.


	6. Fireguard

**Six: Fireguard  
**

I ran with the General several times like that. Even when the rest of the company had adjusted to his pace, I would push past the others, breaking formation, clawing my way through to pass the guide-on. After some time, he became jealous and refused to hand it off to me, so I ran alongside Sephiroth without it, freely. Breathing problems surfaced after that, but I hid it well and was convinced that if I ignored them, they would go away completely: for if I could run alongside Sephiroth, I could be in SOLDIER no problem. Even as SOLDIER trials became more difficult to pass, I reminded myself of this.

Everything changed at an overnight training exercise.

What we did at these was pretend like we're in the field. We marched to a point in the forest, maintaining noise discipline. Our weapons were loaded with blanks, and we played war games against platoons and other companies, if engaged by them. At night, we set up hooches with ponchos and pulled sentry duty in the dark. Flashlights or any other kind of light were prohibited, and I hated roaming back and forth, tripping over tree branches and feet sticking out of tents; barely missing makeshift latrines.

We pulled duty in pairs, and my partner one night told me to check in the opposite direction that he went, and I did. When the jagged rows of tents ended, I turned around and went back, but couldn't find my hooch. I roamed around for a bit more and got lost: in front of me was the end of the forest, and the road that we marched onto in order to get there. When I looked to my right, next to me were the NCO tents, which we were ordered not to go near, and when I turned around completely, someone stood there, scaring the hell out of me.

For a moment, I thought it might have been my partner on guard, trying to play a cruel joke, but the moon was out, and nobody's hair reflected the moon as well as Sephiroth's.

So before I could salute, he'd snatched my weapon from me with one hand, disarming me; with the other hand, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me to him.

If I had been kissed before that, the way Sephiroth's lips squeezed against mine and the way his tongue snaked in between my teeth had pushed any such memory out of my head. For the longest time, my fantasies of kissing had remained only with Tifa, but even those had to give way to this illicit contact.

When he let me go, I fell to the ground. I caught myself with my elbows, breathing heavily, but my legs were spread and I looked up at him, the moon revealing his grinning eyes more than before. In a flash he'd disappeared, and in what seemed to be the next minute—for it could have been twenty—an instructor flew out of his tent and yelled at me, in the middle of the night, to get up. I saw heads poke out of tents and heard snickering. I told him that I'd fallen and was feeling around for my weapon. He found it on the ground, just in front of me, picked it up and tossed it at me. Not expecting me to have caught it, he came around and slapped me on the back of the head, then when my partner had come running up, he slapped him, too, for not keeping a better eye on me.

When we returned to my tent, my partner jabbed the back of my knees with his weapon, and I fell on top of my hooch, collapsing it.

--

The next night, while pulling sentry, I was nervous as all hell and exhausted, having gotten no sleep from the night before. I hadn't figured out if the kiss was real or a dream, but I kept asking myself why I would dream about kissing the General.

Although I made a conscious effort to stay within visual range of my sentry partner, I looked up from taking a drink from my canteen and he wasn't anywhere in sight.

Something gave me the notion to step off in the direction of the cadre tents. I don't recall having heard anything strange coming from there, but I did anyway, knowing that my partner would come back from the latrines angry with me.

I couldn't see anything but the vague forms of boots sticking out from the tents, and when some of the tents zipped in the front, I knew I'd left the area where the trainees slept. I stopped walking when the tent farthest from the others unzipped, and peering into its darkness, I made out Sephiroth's form, his hair seeming to take up most of the space on the floor.

He sat in the back of the tent, one knee propped up and a hand draped over it, his sword jutting out towards me. The moonlight gleaned on it, running up its length until it disappeared into Sephiroth's hand. I wondered if I should have taken this as an invitation in until he raised one finger to his lips slowly.

I unslinged my rifle without looking behind me to make sure no one had seen me and crawled into the small space that accommodated the General. He made a motion for me to zip the tent back up, and I did, then turned to face him, sitting up straight, hands on my knees, respectfully, attempting to convince myself that I had no idea why I'd been summoned.

Up until then, I'd thought that the Shinra uniform had many layers to it: an undershirt with the scarf that only infantry and artillery wear; a turtle neck shirt that we wore even in the heat, shoulder guards, and web gear. But the way Sephiroth had undressed me so quickly, in the dark, even, I could have been in pajamas. The shoulder guards, which were particularly noisy, didn't make a sound as he unbuckled them and they landed behind me. As he unraveled my uniform, a weight in my mind that I hadn't previously known existed went in the piles along with my heavy clothes, and Sephiroth's tongue on my damp skin added a frigid, coolness to the sweat.

I was on the ground beneath him when I noticed that I was breathing in very heavy, even intervals, almost as if I were running or having an asthma attack, and I instantly thought of how I chased him during company runs. I told myself that I should stop so as not to make noise, but I couldn't: and Sephiroth didn't tell me to, anyway. He lifted my hips up with one hand and loosened some buckles with the other, pulling my pants halfway down my thighs; from there my cock sprang from the waistband and he took it in his ungloved hand with just as much anxiety.

In this situation, it was hard not to make any kind of noise at all: I squirmed beneath him, the occasional whine and saliva spilling from the corner of my mouth. I eventually clamped my teeth over my tongue to keep myself from making any kind of open-mouthed noise, but it didn't stop the whining.

When I was close, I wondered if he would fuck me. I was afraid that I would make too much noise, but the look on Sephiroth's face told me that I didn't need to worry, so when he scooped me up and turned me around in his lap, I didn't protest or hesitate. It was hard to maneuver since my pants were still half on, but he did everything for me. One of his gloved hands had me firmly by the upper arm while the other ungloved hand guided his cock in me. When we touched, I jumped back a bit, scared, much in the same way we were when we had first ran with him: we had no idea how fast he would set the pace; well, I had no idea how big his cock was and whether it would split me in half or not.

As he pushed into me, I gasped and my head jolted backwards; I saw stars for a moment. Just as my mouth shot open with the intent of screaming, the ungloved hand came up and clamped down on my mouth. This way, he pushed me down until he was all but about three-fourths in and my hands clawed for something, anything: they found his wrists and my nails dug into his skin, for I had forgotten that he was the General. He raised me up again and pulled me back down; I exhaled, and like this we achieved a steady rhythm. After several minutes, he was able to remove his hand from my mouth, and like when running or doing any other kind of physical activity, I maintained a beat with my breathing—two in and two out. It worked and soon I clenched my teeth together to keep me from moaning, but my hands were still attached to Sephiroth's wrists.

Eventually, I heard Sephiroth grunt too, and it occurred to me that Sephiroth didn't give a damn about what anyone saw or heard, for it was really him who I didn't want getting caught: nobody liked me anyway, I thought, so who cared what they thought? When he increased the pace, he brought the hand that had been around my mouth to the back of my head and pushed me into the dirt, one cheek pressed against a piece of my web gear. My hips were still raised and when I tried to adjust them, Sephiroth kept them firmly in place. I wanted to turn around and catch a glimpse of him inside of me, but his hand kept my face down, and I was left to imagine, listening to the rhythm of his breathing become irregular, as it did when he sprinted for the last stretch of our run.

If I screamed as I came, I don't remember. Surely, he didn't. He finished inside of me, and when he withdrew I felt strange and suddenly uncomfortable. Effortlessly, he pulled me up by the waistband of my pants and kissed me on the mouth, quickly, before directing me to dress.

My things were as we had left it, and although a sudden panic arouse in my of not wanting to be found out, Sephiroth sat calmly in the back of the tent and zipped his pants back up. He lit a cigarette as he watched me dress, and I stopped dressing to glimpse at him, for I had no idea that Sephiroth smoked.

And then, I said this to him.

"I didn't know you smoked, sir," for the first time, with an unwavering voice.

"It's a tradition," he said, not whispering. He took another drag. "Only in the field, soldier."

I grabbed my rifle and left, zipping the tent back up. As usual, I had no idea how much time had passed; my sentry shift may have very well been over. But my partner came running up to me as I headed back to my tent and knocked me on my helmet. I turned around and asked him what he wanted.

"Where the fuck were you?" he demanded in an angry whisper. Exhausted, I turned back around and removed my headgear, throwing it into my tent.

"None of your damn business," I muttered, and he grabbed my shoulder to shove me back. But this time, I fell back out of the way of my tent, and tried to stand up straight. My encounter with Sephiroth had left me hurting, but I projected the right amount of confidence, I suppose, since the other kid was startled for a moment.

We looked at each other for a second before I shoved him back and crawled into the tent, without even thinking to wake up my relief.


	7. Find a Smile

_Looking out, I want to know someone might care  
__Looking out I want a reason to be there  
_'_Cause I don't know what I've done to deserve you  
__And I don't know what I'll do without you.  
_--'Nylon Smile,' Portishead

**Seven: Find a Smile  
**

I dreamt of Aeris last night, surprisingly out of nowhere.

I'd dreamt of her before, but not like this: rather than what Sephiroth does, Aeris calls gently and allows me to reach for her and come by my own will. I don't know how many times I've dreamt of her arm emerging from the light, but when I did this time, I willed myself to actually grab it. As I did, her whole body came tumbling down onto me, wrapped in a thin, white garment that didn't cover much. Her form and her breasts were visible through it, and I imagined it as some sort of thing Cetra might have worn.

Aside from that, I recalled pieces of the dream from the only time we ever had a chance to make love, shortly before she disappeared into the Sleeping Forest. It was the first time that I had truly been in control during sex, and for some reason I knew exactly what to do. Unlike how sex is normally for me, nothing seemed dirty or perverted about it all; I can't even describe it without making it seem so.

A faraway memory-dream of sex with Aeris by far surpassed real sex with Tifa, I even thought in my dream as I held Aeris close and felt her around me, though her soft cries and gasps seemed to envelope me even more. When we finished, I lied on her chest and tears rolled down my eyes and onto her breasts, as if I knew that she would die soon, and she stroked my hair as if she were confirming my fears.

--

The kids are at school today and Tifa wakes up early to see me sitting at the wooden table, but with no knife in my hand. When she comes out, I stand up, my goggles on the top of my head, and jingle my keys in my right hand.

"Ready to go?" I tell her with a smile. She wipes the sleep out of her eyes and swallows.

"What? Go… where?"

"I told you I'd take you along sometime this week."

The thought finally registers with her and she flies back into her room.

"Let me get my gloves."

My hand smoothes over the artwork on the table and I pull my goggles over my eyes as I walk out, the sun particularly blinding today. "Bring sunglasses," I call over my shoulder.

--

One thing I noticed about Sephiroth during our little escapades was that he liked my chest in particular. Later on, after Nibelheim, while tracing my fingers along the scar he put there, I would wonder if that was the reason why—perhaps while his tongue trailed along the basin of my sternum, he was actually blueprinting that area for the scar that would always mark me as his.

--

I finished basic training, but sometime prior to this, my SOLDIER trials had ceased and I hadn't been called back. I was worried only a little bit, though, for I was Sephiroth's pet, and knew for certain that he would want me at his side.

After all, I missed countless formations and classes due to his wanting to see me. I walked alongside him in my downtime, where he would lecture me in battle philosophy and various other bits of training. I could have fallen asleep listening to anyone else, but he always made it more interesting, and I fell in love with the sound of his voice. Walking next to him, I got many stares and nasty looks, especially since I didn't have to salute anyone because I was walking with the General. I'm sure other officers talked about it, but nobody said anything—how could they?

I later found that most of why Sephiroth (and really, I) got away with our affair was because everyone was _afraid_ of him—not because of his rank.

For example, I was at the base's gym one day, working out alone, which we really weren't allowed to do, but I hated everyone, and they hated me even more now that I was always seen with Sephiroth. I had heard stories about younger, under aged soldiers being the most vulnerable targets for gang rapes, but it was one of those things where I was convinced it wouldn't happen to me. Of course, _that_ time, it did. Nearly.

While washing my hair, my eyes were closed and I didn't see the three 108th Mountain soldiers come into the shower before they'd shoved me into the tiles, and I felt pain in my jaw. When I tried to open my eyes, soap got into them and they burned, so I was helpless as they threw me down onto the wet, disgusting floor of the shower and pinned my small arms down with their feet.

"Hey," one of them said, his thick Midgar slum accent sliding through my ears like grease. "Look. It's da Gen'ral's boy."

"You sure dat's him?" Another one said, his smokers' cough cutting through his speech. "Damn, I woulda thought he'da been bigger or something."

"Or better lookin'. He's kinda ugly, y'know?"

"Naw, just scrawny."

They'd pinned me down directly beneath where the shower aimed, so I was started to cough and drown, but the soap had cleared my eyes, and I looked to the side at the door to see Sephiroth there, fully clothed.

After a second, the three soldiers looked up too, and froze.

"Get out," Sephiroth barked. "Before I kill all of you."

One of them squeezed out a 'yessir' before they all scuttled out in a file. I stayed on the ground, blood trailing out of my mouth as Sephiroth came towards me, soaking himself.

He looked down at me and sighed, as if to ask me why I'm so pathetic.

And then he picked me up from under my arms, lifting me to the wall. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him and looked down as he unbuckled his pants and spat on his hand and rubbed it onto his already-wet cock. My breathing quickened as I watched him lift my hips up and fuck me. I had learned to moan loudly, no matter where we were, because it was what Sephiroth liked, and my cries echoed off of the tiles.

He fucked me harder than usual that day, for usually he didn't go much farther than half way in, but I supposed he had wanted to make a point. I became nauseous, feeling him in my stomach, but willing him to go faster so that he could finish. I watched his dick convulse as he came in me, teeth clenched, and sighed as he pulled out, come and blood oozing out of me.

When he set me down, I went to my knees, not being able to move, and watched as his cape and wet hair swished and sloshed its way out of the shower.

It had always fascinated me that had Sephiroth not shown up, the exact same thing would have occurred without him.

--

The wind whips in my cheeks as I smile, while Tifa tightens her arms around my waist.

"Where are we going?" She yells in my ear, and knowing nothing else, I mimic Sephiroth.

_You'll see when we get there._

--

I had heard many threats around post that groups of men had wanted to jump me, but after the three who had attempted in the shower came back from being intervened by Sephiroth, the threats ceased to be anything more than just that.

Of course, everyone made it well known in other ways that they didn't like me. A kid that had regularly spit in my hair during formation was shocked when I turned around and decked him in the nose and returned to position of attention, and the whole platoon backed off after that, especially when I wasn't reprimanded in any way. However, an NCO had once told me, while we were alone, that he hated the sight of me, that it was people like me who are responsible for the lack of discipline in troops and the break down of the chain of command.

When I went to wash my hands in the supply closet and saw that same NCO in there fucking with a trainee, I rolled my eyes and slammed the door in their faces, feeling no qualms about it when Sephiroth would summon me to his office and have me suck him off under his desk as he finished tedious paperwork.

Had we ever been caught? Yes, of course, but it was of no issue. Sephiroth liked to fuck in places where it was even remotely possible: the infirmary, for instance, or recently emptied classrooms. One day, I sat on the instructors' desk while he played with me, my shirt unzipped and my under armor lifted high over my nipples. While my head leaned back, I looked to the door and became startled when I saw four soldiers from my platoon squeezing into the tiny slit the partially open door offered, beckoning me not to look at them because they wanted to stay and watch.

But Sephiroth saw that I wasn't paying attention, so he grabbed my chin and forced it back towards him, before disrobing.

And in front of the audience, he grabbed me by the front of my head, flipped me over on my stomach and fucked me in that classroom, holding my head down so that I looked at the boys outside while I screamed and nearly fainted from the pain.

--

As we careen around the mountain, I listen for Aeris's voice and swear that I hear it, clashing with Sephiroth's deep murmur. I try asking her if she'll be there, but she doesn't answer—their voices are more like hums, simply chords that personify the two, weaving in and out of each other in my head.

As I approach the field, I wonder who will meet me there—him or her—and Sephiroth gives me the most valuable image ever.

Playing with each other in the rooms, fucking in the public showers, giving him head in his office—these things, I felt gave me status and power, like walking alongside him in uniform and being his guide-on bearer during the runs. Everyone hated me then not because I was weak, but because I pleased him, and I drowned myself in that fact.

--

One day, after fooling around, I sat on Sephiroth's desk and swung my legs back and forth, thinking it a good time to ask about my possibility of being in SOLDIER.

"SOLDIER?" Sephiroth had said, surprised, looking up from one of the drawers in his desk. "_You_ were trying out for SOLDIER?"

Oddly, I became upset, but _of course_ the General wouldn't have known about it: I'd never told him. But still, I felt as though it would have been something he had known, perhaps by looking at my file.

But I swallowed. "Well, is there anything you think you could do? I mean, to get me back in the trials. I don't know why they stopped." By this time, I'd dropped the honorific 'sir,' as it just seemed silly to say.

All he said was "hmm," and I didn't press the matter any further.

That night, I snuck out of my barracks after lights out, low crawling past the instructors' desk, even though I knew they wouldn't say anything to anybody if they saw me. I met Sephiroth in his office, for connected to it was a tiny, makeshift bedroom and shower for when he needed to stay late with paperwork. I knocked on the door and entered; Sephiroth took a thin pair of reading glasses off and set them to the side. I was positive that I was the only person who knew that he wore glasses, and that made me smile.

He allowed me to drink tea while I waited an hour or so to finish with his work. When he did, he went into the side room, his arm extending after himself to beckon me to follow him.

I sat down on the bed there, quietly, and he let a out a sigh along with his long hair. As he removed the top of his ensemble, I helped set the pieces down in a nearby chair, neatly, and made sure his hair didn't get tangled in it. When he was shirtless, he hovered over me on the bed and peeled my uniform away, slowly. I had never been completely naked with him, and the sensation of his skin against mine was new and revealing.

He did more than spit on himself to make it smooth that time, and he went all the way in me with each movement. He held my wrists above my head, but when I was close to coming, his hands moved over mine and clutched them; I weaved my fingers through his as if my purpose were to crush them.

We moved to our sides, my knees curled up against my chest, legs over his shoulders. We looked in each other's eyes as he moved in and out of me slowly, and with the way his breathing slowed and calmed, I thought he might fall asleep, fucking me. But he kept his gaze steady on me.

Looking into Sephiroth's eyes is a seperate experience to speak of on it's own, which is why I try to avoid it at all costs. I didn't know it at the time, but in them I saw the Lifestream--a tainted version, even, but they churned and swirled about as if they had all the secrets of the planet to tell.

I came as tears fell, and he held me close, moving on top of me again, pumping me until he came too. When we were done, I felt dazed, the same way I'd feel if I were dehydrated, particularly when Sephiroth pulled me close and I buried my face in his chest.

I don't remember falling asleep that night, but I must have, as when Sephiroth shook me awoke, the sky was pink. I pulled myself away from him and hesitantly got dressed to leave—something was wrong, as I didn't feel like turning to say good bye or giving him a wet, slutty kiss on the way out.

That evening, I was called to my instructors' office and told that I had failed or produced inadequate results for too many SOLDIER trial events, and was taken out of the program. I had partially heard that I would be able to reapply later, but my chances to make it were unlikely, for one of the main tests that I'd failed were bone marrow and weight content—all things I couldn't help. They mentioned that it was a miracle I was even accepted into an infantry position at all. I had the nerve to ask if General Sephiroth would be able to review the results, and the NCO looked at me, disgusted, and said that it was he who gave the final order not to put me back in.

After returning to my room, I'd tried to kill myself. I pulled a cable wire out of the wall and pushed it up into my veins, but I was caught during lights out and rushed to the infirmary. I don't remember it, but they told me that even though I lost a lot of blood, I had kicked and screamed and required four older soldiers to restrain me, even when I was patched up and released to the infirmary to another holdover company. There, I was privately told that I wasn't to see Sephiroth anymore, for the benefit of my health. It wasn't said, but I was sure that it was he who had ordered such a thing, and for nights, I cried thinking about it, longing for him, desperate to hear him call me back into his office, SOLDIER or no.

--

The field and the structure come into view, and the two humming voices cease.

Behind me, a different set of arms pulls at my waist and when I let go of one of the handlebars, I touch a hand, and I know it's Aeris.

My smile widens as she presses her face against my neck, and I remember how she wanted to ride on Cid's airship before we'd met him, and ask her, "Is this good enough?"

"Hmm. It's not quite the sky, but it'll do for now." I don't want to let go of her hand, but I have to turn, and as we whip around the corner, she takes a risk and throws her hands over my eyes. Laughing, I shake her hands away and she sits back down.

I turn around to whisper her name, but as the first syllable comes out, Tifa smiles and nods forward to hear, startling me.

"What?" She asks, the prospect of me whispering to her bringing excitement to her voice.

I turn back to the front. "We're almost there," I say, and speed up around the mountain.

--

**A/N: Whoo. I'm almost done with this. I know that in most cases, authors would just publish over periods of time to get more reviews, but I can't do this: I have to write it all now before I lose it, and I've never finished a chapter fic before in my life. EVER. Yeah, I'm one of those bitches.**

**This story has only been up for one day, but for future readers, I'd appreciate any kind of feedback possible. :3 Questions, comments, constructive criticism: anything, even if you think it doesn't need it. Thanks in advance!**


	8. As One

네마음 은 하나에 있고싶지만,  
_I want to stay in one piece  
_조금씩조금씩 다준다.  
_But little by little I give it all away.  
_아직또, 말없는 음악을 들을수있는지,  
_Even still, I hear the music with no words,  
_그남자가 말하면, 말과 음악이 같이 일치하지않는다.  
_And when he speaks, his words and the music become discordant together.  
_이렇게 더, 말을갑자기끊으면,  
_Even so, if his words cease,  
_네몸도 끊어지겠다.  
_So will my body._

**Eight: As One**

We arrive at the field and walk towards the concrete structure, though I see neither of them there. Tifa, fortunately doesn't say a word: if she were to ask me any question, I wouldn't have an answer for her, anyway.

Absently, I take her hand and lead her to the front of the structure. We stare at it for a while, and I leave her at the grass and step into it.

The sky moves quickly. When a breeze picks up, I feel their presence, and turn to see Aeris, not too far off in the distance, with her basket on her arm, holding a flower to her face, her head bowed and eyes closed. When I see that she isn't moving, I realize that she is praying.

I feel the Lifestream flood into my chest until heavy footsteps come from my left, stopping me in my tracks from running past Tifa to Aeris. Tifa, no longer smiling, looks back in the direction that Aeris stands in, and then at me.

When Sephiroth grabs the arm afflicted with Geostigma I cry out and go to my knees. Tifa rushes toward me, but I scream at her to stay back and she does, horrified. Neutral clouds continue to roll in as Aeris prays, and Sephiroth bends my arms awkwardly behind my back. I look up in the direction of Tifa and Aeris, standing parallel to each other but in different distances. Looking through Tifa I beg Aeris not to turn this way as Sephiroth lowers his sharp mouth to my ear and trails his tongue along it.

With one hand, he keeps me restrained, and the other, he pulls the zipper of my shirt down to my abdomen and traces the scar in my chest. I try to keep my eyes fixed on the girls; I try to think of being with Aeris in the field or even with Tifa, doing nothing in the bar.

Yet, as Sephiroth's mouth claims my neck and shoulders, the farthest away I can possibly be is at that wooden table, slicing slivers of wood out with unrelenting vigor, my mouth pulled tightly shut and my eyes so wide in concentration that tiny splinters keep popping into them. I draw a long vertical line as Sephiroth rips my pants clean off of me with one fluid motion, and another parallel line as he unzips himself. His fingers pry my mouth open and saliva oozes out of it; I breathe uncontrollably as I watch Aeris. Just as Sephiroth pushes in, her eyes open and she lifts her head from prayer, staring off into the distance to the right of her.

Sephiroth hips up and I fall onto the floor at Tifa's feet, curling my hands into the concrete, tearing my fingernails apart as there is nothing to grab. I refuse to look at her, but reminiscent of when we fucked in the classroom years ago, Sephiroth grabs my head and forces it upward as he slams into me, and I look up at Tifa's emotionless face.

At the table, I make a deep laceration into the wood, and another one as Sephiroth's cock razors into me; only this time, blood and black matter drip onto the crevices that I had carved out. With each thrust after that, I feel him in my stomach, and anything other than him and the pain become nothing.

As if she sees something, Aeris steps off in the direction that she'd lost herself in, and I make a motion to reach for her, but Sephiroth's final thrust sends a ripping sensation up my spine and I scream into the air, listening to my voice bounce off of the mountains, watching Aeris go, through tears.

Sephiroth simply releases me by unwrapping one of his thumbs from my wrists, and I fall forward, slowly understanding: had I fought, I could have wrenched myself free of him from the beginning.

But his laugh fills my ears and when he gathers me up to kiss me, I let him, feeling myself turn into the fourteen-fifteen year old toy soldier. He shushes me as I sniff, dry my eyes, and stand up.

Fully clothed, I move back to Tifa. The clouds still move fast, but I hear no wind whipping in my ears, and Tifa leans on one leg, looking around the field in curiosity.

"Is this where you come to be alone?" She says with a quiet, understanding smile. I shift a bit, thrown off by the dryness between my legs and the lack of pain in my back.

"Yeah," I say, taking her hand again. "That's it. Come on," I say, pulling her back to the bike.

--

We drove back slower than we came, Tifa asleep on my back. For a while, I heard no voice on our way home, but when I turned around, Aeris sniffed a bit, her pouty lips half smashed onto my shirt.

"Well," she said, sadly.

"Maybe next time."

Unsure of what she meant, I turned to ask her, but Tifa stirred, and I told her that we were close to Midgar and that she should start to wake up.

--

이쪽이든지, 그쪽이든지 아파서,  
_This way or that way, it hurts;  
_그냥 두사람들 사이에 있어야하는데,  
_I can only stay between them,  
_한쪽에 꼭있어야한다.  
_For I want to stay as one piece._


	9. Epilogue: Three

_Three's my lucky number  
And fortune comes in threes  
But I wish I knew that number  
That even little children seem to see  
Oh, I'm missing everything I knew  
It's just so hard to be a child  
Oh, I'm missing all the things I knew  
Yet wish I knew nothing at all  
I wish I knew nothing at all._

--'Three,' Massive Attack

**Epilogue: Three**

Back at the bar, the kids crowd around me as I make gentle scratches on the table, finishing up my work, brushing splinters off to the side and blowing them away to dust. Tifa comes out from her room and all four of us gaze at it.

"…Well, what is it?" Tifa said, her weeks-long anxiety showing in her voice.

As I think of a way to explain it to them, Denzel lifts himself up and points.

"There are three hands," he says.

He's right. The carving is of three hands, more jagged than I had imagined because I used a knife, but effective in their message: their claw-like fingers all grasp in the direction of one figure, whose limbs are severed from the torso. One big hand hovers over the head, threatening to tear that off, too.

"Is that… _you_, Cloud?" Marlene asks in awe, for I add tiny spikes to the top of the dismembered figure's head. Tifa bites her lip and says, "Marlene, I've found some scraps for you somewhere behind the bar. Why don't we go and get them?"

Marlene tears away from the table, and Denzel stands back down on his heels, looking at me for a long time before walking off towards Marlene.

--

Tifa pleads with me to get rid of the table, so with my sword, I drag the wood outside and roll it towards the dump. There I chop it to small pieces as passersby dodge my sword and the large splinters, making squares for people to use easily should they find it and want to use it for fuel. But the last block I chop is of the portrait I created.

When I go upstairs, I place the block up on the wall next to Marlene's picture of me, and get the impulse to knock out push-ups. I do about a hundred and twenty before reaching muscle failure and collapsing on the ground. I turn over and look up, letting the ceiling form circles and shapes that I know aren't there.

I hear Marlene's laugh outside and close my eyes, losing myself in thinking of Aeris twirling around in that field, Aeris laughing with me on my bike, Aeris's head on my chest and me watching her back rise and fall, gently.

And yes, though my eyes aren't open, of course I notice the shiny black boot close to my arm, the edges of black fabric tickling the sensitive side of my skin.

--

__

_Soon__ I__'ll have the courage  
To leave my thoughts behind  
I'll give back all the knowledge  
And keep the wisdom precious in my mi__nd_

Oh, I_'m missing all the things __I__ knew  
I miss them yet __I__ want them gone  
Yes, __I__'m missing all the things __I__ knew  
Yet I wish __I__ knew nothing at all  
I wis__h I__ knew nothing at all__…_

**끝**

**A/N: And there you have it, folks. In my nine years of writing, I've yet to actually fucking FINISH a multi-chaptered story, and my first one is an FFVII one. Holy cow. **

**I'm sure there are several parts where this could have been better or where this may have seemed rushed, but I tell you: I haven't written anything in about a year, and… well, think about it as being like, mentally constipated or something. You can't stop it from coming out when you finally… okay bad analogy; my bad. XD**

**For non-suing purposes: Final Fantasy VII is property of Square-Enix. The two songs I used, Portishead's 'Nylon Smile' and Massive Attack's 'Three,' are property of their owners. The only thing that _mine_ is the poem used in 'Wordless' and 'As One;' I composed that poem in Korean and translated it to English. Please don't steal that from me; I mean it. That is a great accomplishment for me, and it means a lot.**

**So! Once again, thank you for reading. Pleeeeease please please please review this, whether you liked it or not. Once I get several reviews, I'll put a response page up as a chapter in this fic to answer questions and the like if I left anyone confused. Happy ficcing!**

**--Marina, ****調珍株**


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